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ladies lace's avatar

Shameless Tipper

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              pulvis sidereus pulvis( : IFYOU'RENOTALLOWEDTOSTOPx.
              ps: everything is but the dust of x. x. x.
              the starscontinue moving FOR WARD! llike thisI want you to remember you're ×not a l o n e
              pulvis sidereus pulvis sidereusI cannot pretend to be someone weakx.I cannot pretend to be someone weakx.I cannot pretend to be someone weak
              everything is ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ I SMILED AS I TOLD YOU STRAIGHT
              but dustKEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx.KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH xx. KEEP THE FAITH
              of the stars⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯
              ps▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
              pulvis sidereus ██ 向かい風の中 spica caelum. x. ██ ありのままに richard montgomery high. x. ██ 生きること infiltrating.

                            Everything was simply a passing blur--the cars dashing by, lights flashing, the surging skyscrapers and the people either taking it easy as they walked or rushing through. Click clack click clack. The pattern of shoes clicking against the cement was constant and fast. There was no hesitation in her steps as her heels made contact with the ground and the grim expression on her face matched her steady movements. She was vastly concentrated on reaching her destination rather than her environment, making sure that nothing was to disturb her engagement. To her co-workers, they would have simply believed that she just wanted to get her mission over with and was serious as always to fulfill her duties. Oh how wrong they were. Underneath her seemingly calm gaze was an intense flame that would scorch those who touched it.

                            Spica was infuriated beyond belief.

                            And whoever approached her was just asking to burned.

                            She muttered darkly to herself, her mumbling incomprehensible to those who could even hear her. It was obvious--to anyone who actually knew her--that the female was not pleased. At all. Clips of a memory she made not so long ago came back to haunt her when she had tried to distant it to no end. A frown was on her lips as she detestably recalled the events that added fuel to her fire. Before she knew it, she was already remembering the reason why she was so pissed off in the first place.

                            pulvis sidereus pulvis sidereusIN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT IN THAT SPAN
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT OF CLEAR SKY
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT WE ARE FREE
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT TO PAINT WHATEVER
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT COLOR WE WANT

                            ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
                            OH, TRUE COLOR

                            It was the end of another day hard at work, most would have been already done with their jobs or just starting it at this dark hour but that was the case for Spica. Being a superhuman and a government agent--no, not even an agent, she was the government's dog--she did labor twice the amount a regular agent would have done. Irritated and fatigued, the female just wanted to get home, take a nice, relaxing shower and go to bed.

                            But fate was a b***h and destiny had other ******** plans for her for she heard a commotion a safe distance away. Stopping in her tracks, Spica froze on the spot, contemplating if she should check it out or not. ' Maybe I should just leave it... It doesn't sound too serious, ' she thought before turning away, continuing her walk home. That is, until she heard a gunshot. The bang ringed in her ears and despite how her feet ached, how desperately she wanted a shower, even she knew she could not let this slide. No, her pride would not let her and her concern for the well-being of other's would not allow it. Sighing, she stepped onto a puddle that was conveniently nearby and seemed to sunk into it, without another sign.

                            Spica surfed the reflections from the direction she had heard the gunshot, reaching her objective when she saw two parties scuffling through the wet ground underneath them. The female pushed back a loose strand of hair, the displeasure evident on her face. It would seem that no one was not bleeding (yet) but she recognized one group as the gang causing trouble with their illegal bouts. She would have to arrest them. A groan escaped her mouth, muttering something along the lines of how she'll have to deal with the idiots.

                            Hand outstretched, her hand went through the reflection and latched onto one of the men's ankles and tugged hard. The unlucky man was pulled into the ground, half of his body in dimension of mirrors (or reflections, whatever) while his upper body was still in the surface. Right away, the fighting ceased and instead they started panicking. Spica grabbed a few more people's ankles before they realized a superhuman was at work and either a) shot anywhere or b) ran away. When she saw that a few of the gang members were leaving, she let out a 'tsk' and emerged from the small pool of water to go after them. Seeing a girl appear out of nowhere, they continued to run, only looking back to shoot at her. Creating a mirror to repel the bullets, she catch up to them with ease, making another mirror before pushing some of them in it.

                            " Sorry, but the only place you're going to is jail. " she stated coldly. She was about to run after the few that managed to escape when suddenly, she was confronted by an odd male. Halting in her steps, she threatened the redhead. " Move, now. " However her icy tone did little to intimidate him, much less, move aside to her annoyance. Spica glared at him, looking into his golden eyes hatefully, temporarily forgetting the matter of capturing the criminals. The two fiercely stared at each other to see who back down first--her or the b*****d who wouldn't get out of her way--until her power holding them reached its time limit, forcing her to break the stare. ' s**t-- ', the culprits she had trapped were now running and now she had to catch them again. Sending the redhead a death glare, she practically growled at him. " I'll deal with you and your buddies later, for now you're off the hook. Better watch your back though punk. " Spica simply told him, running after the other crooks.

                            pulvis sidereus pulvis sidereusIN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT IN THAT SPAN
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT OF CLEAR SKY
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT WE ARE FREE
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT TO PAINT WHATEVER
                            IN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT COLOR WE WANT

                            ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
                            OH, TRUE COLOR

                            The flashback ended and as she reached her target's school, her expression darkened. It was not the a*****e that stopped her from doing her job that made her mad--actually, he was partly the reason why she was--but the fact that she lost face. Her hard-earned reputation went down because she couldn't hand in all of the criminals and let half of them escape. Half. Of. Them. She would never hear the end of it from the higher ups and other "fellow" agents. Its not like Spica honestly cared about what they said, they could insult her all she wanted, she didn't give a damn about their ******** asses or if people did illegal s**t. No, it was when they dare try to scare her by using her sister against her did she get furious.

                            They were going to pay one day. All of them.

                            And she'll watch them beg under her feet as they all burned in hell.

                            It was then when she felt an abrupt collision did she broke out of her thoughts and snapped at the perpetrator, practically yelling " What?! " To her surprise, it was a smaller male who looked like he was frozen stiff. Realizing that she frightened the poor child (she was older than him after all), she replaced the scowl with a warm smile. " A-ah, sorry. I'm just a bit..edgy. I'm new to this school you see. " Spica whacked her head lightly, pretending to be a ditsy schoolgirl who was nervous on her first day of school. The boy wore a relieved expression and nodded, " Its okay, I've just recently transferred here too so I understand your feelings. " " I see then, " she replied, thoughtful for a moment. " Say..you wouldn't know where the senior classrooms are at, do you? " The boy nodded and exclaimed, " Sure I do! Just follow me. " " Ah thanks! " Spica replied cheerfully, walking behind the boy as she blended with the students with ease.

                            Now all she had to do was find this Marc kid and make sure David doesn't attack him or something.
golden dewdrop's avatar

Sex Symbol

          provisional's use only, dnt pro pro
          provi██████████████████████████████████████████████████

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          proUser Image
          provisonalcode name: heist provisonal's use only real name: caine provisonal's use only power: ability mimicry
          provision ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯
          provisional's use only. provisional's oops, i guess i shot ya. my finger's on the trigger i had a bullet with your name on it
          provisional's use only. provisional's use only. stealing is a crime. click, click i'm a sex pistol. my love should be illegal. real deal baby, i'm no counterfeit

                                        The sun was shining over the DC area; there were people laughing and birds singing. There was not a single cloud that dared covered the light`s rays to darken the atmosphere. Heist looked up to the sky and smiled towards it; it was that coy smile that made people think something was about to happen, something big. “What a beautiful day to create hell!” the dark-haired man chimed, now taking his attention to the path directly in front of him and continued his way downtown. Behind him, a large steel luggage with what seemed to be a passcode lock. There was something in there, something worth hiding. It was rare to see a man in a suit - completely black (other than the red silk tie) it looked as if he just stepped out of an airport magazine advertisement or headed to a funeral.

                                        Pushing his glasses up with his middle finger, Heist stopped at the corner of the crosswalk, waiting for the pedestrian symbol to light up and make his way. There was a crowd surrounding him, eager to get to the other side. Across the street was a building, named in big, gold lettering: NATIONAL CAPITAL BANK. The pedestrian lit up and the sound of walking and muttering went past him in all directions. The man’s goal was to that bank. Everything must be perfect and pristine. One mistake and the symphony of destruction would be ruined.

                                        Heist checked his watch as he advanced. “Right on time” he smirked, finally making his was across. The hand was flashing red and the timer was counting down. With a few quick sprints, he made it to the other side before the hand become solid. The criminal’s eyes looked up to the building, this is where his plans begin. Stepping through the sliding doors of the building, he noticed two buff men were at the door - sunglasses with earpieces. Heist made note of that; with earpieces meant backup and there were more of them around due to the news of his recent bank robberies. No one knew his face; it was far too general to have a decent description of him, everyone had someone who matched his description. The security cameras were useless around him. The Elusive Bandit is what he was titled, police officers were on the lookout for him, but often came out empty handed. There were thousands of people who matched his description, and they only needed one. “Good morning, gentlemen ~” the man greeted the bodyguards with a nod of his head. They glanced at him for a brief notice then turned back to their original position, he not something of their interest. He shrugged, they’ll be interested in him soon enough.

                                        There was a line up. It extended practically to the door as it only took a few steps for our con man to stand in it. Setting his luggage up, Heist stood up on his tippy-toes to try to have a fair look of the area. There were far too many people and the show was going to begin soon. “No, no, no! This will never do! Excuse me –“ He pushed his way past everyone in line, dragging his suitcase behind him. Most of them yelling at him or distastefully whispering behind him. A few “hey!” and “watch it!” but nothing physical so far. He finally made it to the front, but the bank tellers all had customers. Heist looked at his watch once again. “Honestly – this will never do.” Finally fed up with such trivial matters the man simply pushed a young woman – perhaps in her early twenties, dressed like a bimbo of the celebrity variety. “Hey!” She hollered as Heist motioned her to shut her mouth. “Um… Excuse me… -“ The bank teller began to speak before being interrupted by Heist. “This will only take a second, trust me.” The bank teller sunk in his seat, looking around to his colleagues as each one of them silently spoke to one another about the situation.

                                        Heist placed the luggage down, entering the passcode for the suitcase to open, the sound of beeping heard. It seemed rather strange for him to interrupt and push through simply to get something out of his briefcase. The woman whom he pushed out of the way finally had enough, “Hey! What the hell is your problem? I was in line firs - !” Heist eyes changed colour as he looked towards her – they were bright red. This surprised the woman just for a moment; the intimidation the emitted from his being engulfed her, enough to make her back up a few steps before finally building up the courage to yell at him once again – this time with the crowd of people behind her nagging at his neck. “Honestly…” Caine sighed, ignoring the yelling of people behind him. “I said this would only take a moment…” he huffed, finally getting the case to open with a hiss as steam poured out from the side of the luggage. “Some assembly is required ~” he opened the luggage, purposefully covering the content from the people behind him. He was assembling something, with a few mechanical clicks; people could guess what it was. The woman though, so desperate to show Heist her worth pushed him at the shoulder, “Hey listen when someone’s talking to you, just be –“ Irritated, Heist silenced her once and for all. His eyes were glowing a pale green. He threw her across the bank, the sound of her body hitting the wall echoed throughout and caused enough of a force to create an indent, cracking the wall. “I said this would only take a moment!” Heist roared loud enough for the entire bank to hear him, everyone in shock and silence. Looking at him, and then back to the woman who he threw that laid there unconscious. Retaining his composure the criminal smiled. “That’s better ~ She was a pretty one though, I would’ve loved to meet her in a bar or something ~” He laughed, but no one dared to make a comment about it. They could recognize what he was – a super human.

                                        Now that he had everyone’s attention, the show was about to begin.

                                        Pushing him up the counter, with an assembled submachine-gun in hand. Caine smirked as he turned his body, his legs posed in a seductive manner as he winked to the bank teller in front of him. “Hey there, handsome ~” The worker blushed and averted his eyes as Caine took delight in his reaction. Standing on the counter now, the suited man clicked a cartridge into the gun and fired it towards the ceiling. “EVERYONE GET DOWN ON THE GROUND AND FACE THE WALL!” Heist ordered, security finally drawing their gun towards him now. “That’s not a good idea you know ~” Caine smiled, manifesting his wings with feathers pointed towards them that looked like metallic knifes. “I said… GET DOWN AND FACE THE WALL!” Reluctantly, security got down on their knees and complied with his orders. “Now everyone else that includes bank tellers. Do the same. Hands on your head.” Everyone did as he told him or her to. Caine smiled as he dragged the same bank teller who he momentarily flirted with to the back. Calling behind him, he looked at the crowd. “Anyone who disobeys well… Just look to the woman I threw over there.”

                                        ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅

                                        The police were already here, and Caine had only about three minutes left of his powers. “s**t…” He muttered under his breath. He would have the wait it out and hope that no one. ‘If I get out of here now, I won’t have the power to make a clean getaway… I’ll have to wait out thirty minutes…’ Caine was contemplating on what he would be able to do. Bombs have been set around the civilians he held as hostages – of course he wasn’t planning to use it. It was more of a just-in-case circumstance and a power handle to show his authority. From a distance he heard a voice. “Oh! What is it now?” listening carefully to the voice now. It sounded strangely familiar. Caine turned around, smiling. Finally, stepping out from the shadows towards the voice – now inside the bank. “That would be me ~” he called back, walking with outstretched arms towards the man who ordered him to reveal himself. “That’s such a rough thing to do ~ But I like it rough.” God knows why he revealed himself at his current state. Hiding wasn’t his thing. “I thought after maybe the second time they’d something about me, but they never did ~ What were they thinking?” Caine offered a charming smile before it died down to a thin line. He knew he was in trouble, the taunting and teasing wasn’t going to do anything. “Ah… Well, just for the record, baby. I have bombs set around this building that I only know how to disable. If that’s anything to you ~” He grinned, hiding his nervous anxiety of what was going to happen next.


                                        x
                                        provisional's use only. biatch MISSION: HEIST
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                                                                    Que Zero;;

                                                                    Act 1: Scene 1

                                                                    Everyone was screaming. That was pretty much the bulk of what Que could observe. The government doesn't always step in when you want them to, but they're usually there when you need them. Though, maybe a couple minutes late. Okay, maybe more than a couple, but you see, it wasn't Que's fault. It happened like this.

                                                                    It was just a normal morning/afternoon/whatever, and Que was doing what he always did. He was lounging around. Specifically, he had just gotten out of a nice long bath and was air drying on his bed. He was currently staying in a shabby Motel 5.9 because he forgot to pay his rent again. For the 4th month in a row. His webbing was still wet when he'd gotten the call that a DEVIL FAN OF EVIL WAS ATTACKING INNOCENT CIVILIANS AND IT WAS HIS JOB TO GET IN THERE AND GET THOSE PEOPLE TO SAFETY. Two minutes later, Que checked his voicemail and received the message because he had slept through the actual call. Que rolled onto his back. Literally, like a second later, Antony was knocking on his door because it was time to go. Quick, rapid, impatient knocking. How did Antony even know where to find him? Que slipped on some underwear. Striped red or solid blue? It was a tough choice, but Que went with the blue. It really brought out the freckles on his legs. Antony was pounding on his door because they really had to get in there and get those people to safety. Que wiggled into a shirt and pants he found on the floor. They didn't smell dirty, so they were probably alright. No one would really notice the mustard stain on the knee. Antony was seconds away from breaking down the door and tucking Que in his back pocket because lives were on the line and they needed to leave NOW. Of course, Antony hadn't said anything, but Que knew what he meant by the incessant thunder that came from Antony's fist on the cheap motel door. Que could read between the lines. Mmm. His hair was still wet though. Maybe he should grab a towel.

                                                                    KNOCKING. ON. THE. DOOR.

                                                                    "...coming."

                                                                    Okay, so maybe it was Que's fault that they were late. But they were here now, and that's all that mattered. "Yeah, so..." Que looked up at Antony, who was probably assessing the situation and formulating the best course of action or something superhero-y like that. Que dug in his ear because if felt like there was a little water trapped inside. "I'll...deal with the, uh...injuries and you." But Antony had already jumped into action. Okay then. Que cleared his throat, trying to address the chaotic crowd gathered on the street to stare -but not approach- the building. If it wasn't because it was his job, Que would have called Antony crazy for going in there. But alas, duty calls.

                                                                    Hehe, duty.

                                                                    "Um, okay! Crowd people!" Que shouted, his voice holding the same significance as a Hollywood wedding. Naturally, no one gave him the time of day. They were all fixated on Marty's Fan Mart. "Guys, really. You should..." He waded his way through the crowd, trying to get to the front. "...stay back." Ah man, he should have gone with the striped red boxer briefs, they were more comfortable. "Everything is...under...control." Still, they paid as much attention to him as fallen apart burrito.

                                                                    Que let his freakishly long tongue hang out of his mouth.

                                                                    "A-another superhero!"

                                                                    "Well, hero is...a strong word."

                                                                    "Are you with the other girl?"

                                                                    "Is this your fault?!"

                                                                    "This is gonna get so many views online!"

                                                                    Que squinted his eyes, smiling at the crowd. With everyone talking at once, it just seemed like one big blah of words. Too much shouting and accusing and panicking. They needed to relax. Que held up his hands, real slow, taking his sweet time to level them to his chest, palms pointed at the crowd. Someone commented about his webbed fingers, but Que ignored them. "Is there anyone." He paused. His mouth was a little dry. "Hurt?" Yes, there was someone hurt, and she was lying on the ground, bleeding from her stomach. "Has anyone...called an ambulance...?" Twenty people at once pulled out their phones. "Okay, then...that's all I can do for her." He was a government agent, not a nurse. Was she even supposed to apply pressure? He honestly didn't know.

                                                                    "I'm going to...uh, go inside now. To." He gestured over his shoulder to the building. "More people might need....

                                                                    ...

                                                                    ...

                                                                    ...

                                                                    help."
                                                                    Alright! Time to earn his paycheck. Que scratched at his wet hair, then jogged to the store. Oh hey, look at that, the door had been pried open then bent. How destructive. Que frowned, carefully stepping over the shards of glass. Someone could get cut on that. "Does anyone in here..." Que raised his voice, "Need any..." The was a ceiling fan blade embedded in the wall. "Help?" The sounds of commotion and fighting were coming from aisle 17. Que actively walked in the other direction. "The uh," Could he call himself the police? Was that politically correct? "Help has...arrived. Is anyone in need of, uh..." No one down that aisle. "Assistance?" Trails of blood littered the floor, but Que wasn't sure which one he should follow. He jogged down the aisles, calling out for stray civilians.

                                                                    Luckily, Que looked up from the blood splattered tile long enough to see the fan whirling above his head shooting a blade at him. He dodged, throwing himself out of the way and into the next aisle. The blade changed directions and followed. ASDNFKA. Que scrambled to his feet, pushing himself forward like a dog on ice trying to run. He slipped, and the blade passed over his head, slamming into the wall. Que really hoped Antony was being careful; Que had hoped that Antony's fighting would be enough to distract a majority of the danger while Que evacuated the store, but apparently a Fan Store had a lot of fans.

                                                                    Que heard a girl's voice. Either Antony had a secret he needed to tell someone, or there was someone here. "Miss!" Que made his way to the voice, trying to avoid the center aisle. As it turns out, Que wasn't that good at fighting. "Are you hurt? I'm on my..." He rounded the corner. "Way." A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The little green guy spun around, ready to block a razor from slicing his face in half, but instead, he just met face-to-face with.

                                                                    A camera.

                                                                    Que squinted at it, then turned back around and kept running. Hold on little lady, Que was on his way to rescue you. Down the aisle. Take a left. Que had approximately half a second to press himself against the shelf before a blade burrowed itself into his forehead. Que pressed himself against the shelf. The fan blade zoomed by his face, breaking in half after hit one of those annoying support beams that never fail to be in the center of the aisle and made it impossible to push a cart through. The broken pieces fell to the floor, dead...or whatever the equivalent of a weird semi-controlled fan thing that stopped working would be called. So, dead. But then, just like in any good zombie movie, they didn't stay dead. They jerked on the ground, like a fish out of water. Obviously, the fans here had faulty wiring. This would not look good in the press.

                                                                    "Miss!" Que turned back to the girl, ready in any way, shape, or form help her get out of here. "Are you..." She was bleeding. "...glowing?"
silvieon's avatar

Fanatical Hunter

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                      There were things he thought he'd be doing on Saturdays, things that he hoped he'd be doing on Saturdays. He hoped that maybe he'd be able to have friends to go out with and "hang out", as they said. That was what teenagers (he considered himself one, anyways) did, what he never got the chance to do. Maybe watch a movie (that wasn't Disney, for once, not that Disney movies weren't great in their own rights) with some friends. The only problem was that all of his plans involved friends.

                      And he had none.

                      And also, he was standing in front of Que's door knocking. And knocking. And more knocking. That was definitely not in his Saturday plans. Code Gray missions really were such a bother. Maybe they'd be better if Lee let him go online so he could actually use his powers, but, you know, he was kind of not allowed to. Because of his powers.

                      God, this was just shaping up to be a really exciting morning. That sucked.

                      "...coming."

                      'Note to self, the knocking works,' he thought, nodding in Que's direction before he turned around and walked off in the direction of the mission.

                      No, he was not allowed to drive a car either. Rude government bosses were rude. But, hey. At least they got there in time (in time, not on time, because of the five odd minutes he'd spent knocking on Que's door. It was true, he could've broken the door, but that was rude. Antony was not rude. Not really, he hoped.). The store was already in ruin, with people huddled in clumps outside the door. Antony squinted, pulling his gloves off and stuffing them in his pockets, noting the broken window and wires everywhere. Best to watch out for those.

                      "No time like the present," he muttered under his breath, before running straight into the store through one of the broken windows, diving through it and rolling to his feet.

                      There was, predictably, glass everywhere. And broken, sparking wires. And ruined fans. (How did so many fans exist in one place?) Antony cast a cursory glance around the store as he moved down one of the aisles, not even sure what he was supposed to be watching out for.

                      And then it whizzed right by his ear, embedding itself in the wall.

                      It wasn't being hit over the head with the answer, but considering the fact that he'd heard the ******** thing fly by his head, it was probably for the best that it didn't hit him in the head. Turning around warily, he eyed the wall, trying to figure out what it was that had flown by so quickly. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary, except for the white fan blade stuck in the poster advertising some sort of fan type.

                      Antony really only had a second to grab the blade when it ripped out of the wall and very nearly hit him over the head. The blade dug into his palms, giving him deep ridges in his palms, but thankfully no cut skin. Narrowing his eyes, the blade slowly began to break apart. First straight down the middle, then breaking each of those in half again. Okay, so maybe taking his gloves off was a really bad idea, considering the fact that his hands felt like they were burning now as he tried to shake off the pain. Was fan burn a thing? Looking down at the red line down each palm, Antony was pretty certain that it was.

                      So he wasn't going to be trying that any time soon.

                      "God dammit! Stay put!"

                      "Is...is anyone still in here?" he called out warily, pulling the previously taken off gloves out of his pocket. He had to be ready this time, especially since that was a human voice. No more being caught unawares, especially by a potential adversary. Antony went down the aisle quickly and quietly, sweeping his gaze around the store constantly. No fan blades would catch him this time, he'd make sure of it.

                      Except that the only direction he couldn't keep track of was directly behind him, because that was where he heard a fast whipping sound from and barely managed to crouch in time as a fan blade (hadn't he just broken one of them) flew right over his head. "Dammit!" he hissed under his breath, breaking into a run, rounding the corner and...

                      ...gracefully barreling into someone who was just standing there in the middle of the aisle.

                      Really.

                      Who in their right mind would stand in the middle of the aisle of a half - destroyed fan mart with deadly fan blades flying everywhere. Antony may have been a stranger to almost every single kind of social etiquette and mannerism, but he was not stupid. He was not stupid and he could reason and there just had to be wrong with someone if they were willingly in the middle of the danger zone that was previously Marty's Fan Mart.

                      "This is that irony thing Chachi was talking about," he said aloud in realization, blinking down at the person (girl, now that he looked. Probably a girl, anyways.) he'd run into. "It's irony if I'm thinking about how crazy you must be standing around in here right now, right. That's what it's called, isn't it?" Antony peered down at the girl, taking in her face quickly, running her details through his head. Her kind of hair he'd seen before; it looked almost like Mary's. But her eyes were weird. That meant that he hadn't met her before.

                      "Antony," he said curtly, nodding down at her. Chachi said the thing to do when you first met people was to introduce yourself. He was being polite, thank you very much.
KiD IC4RUS's avatar

Devoted Friend

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                                          i'm eaяning to FALL ↓↓↓ ( )
                                          XXXXXXXXXXXXw h e n x i ` m x g o i n g x d o w n , x d o n ` t x w o r r y x a b o u t x m e
                                          ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ DON`T TRY THIS AT HOME ▇▇▇▇▇▇
                                          XXXXXXXx P R E T E N D Y O U D O N ` T S E E
                                          XXXXXXXXI T x S H O U L D ` V E x B E E N x M E

                                      Go to the grocery, Florence said. Don't let master hard-boil the eggs, Florence said.

                                      Oh yeah? What if he throws a temper tantrum in the middle of the cereal aisle and explodes through the roof? Thanks, Florence.

                                      To get what really happened, I guess you'd need to rewind a little bit..

                                      ~* FLASHBACK SEQUENCE *~

                                      Hellfire, in all his cheesy villain get-up glory, strolled beside Vise as he pushed the cart along. They were supposed to be there for average groceries that Florence, Hellfire's robot butler, had written down. He was programmed to be able to copy any recipe perfectly, so technically anyone at Seiten Inc. could have whatever he wanted for dinner with the right ingredients. If Florence weren't invented, they'd probably be having ramen cups every night. Vise was given the duty of running errands, but for some reason his boss decided to tag along this time. It wasn't too unusual an occurrence, just that Hellfire was a.. handful. Okay, maybe that's a little bit of an understatement. He was like a kid in a candy store, he just wanted freaking EVERYTHING.

                                      "Marshmallows?"
                                      "... Why?"
                                      "We could toast them at home, like, anywhere!"
                                      "No."

                                      "Marshmallow gun?"
                                      "No."
                                      "No fun.. (mumble) marshmallows.. (mumble)"

                                      "Nerf swords?"
                                      "No."
                                      Insert moment where Hellfire stabs Vise with said useless foam weapon.

                                      "Real swords?"
                                      Cue a swing that unceremoniously wrecks a shelf.
                                      "... No." The tin sound of a rolling can was heard in the silence.

                                      "Moonsand?"
                                      "No."
                                      "What?! But it's Moonsand! The sand that molds like dough!"
                                      "Double no."

                                      "Yorkie dog?"
                                      "What? No."

                                      Huh. He didn’t know Walmart sold those.

                                      (“Mommy, that weird man kidnapped Ollie!”
                                      “… It’s okay honey, we’ll get another one.”
                                      )

                                      It was ridiculous. Vise probably would’ve screamed if he gave a s**t.

                                      After the henchboy had finally forfeited his vigilance, Hellfire picked up a box of Apple Jacks, tore open the cardboard and plastic, then dug his gloved fingers into the cereal. Vise assumed he was just screwing around normally, but then Hellfire was just like, "WHAAAAT!"

                                      "What."
                                      "Th- There’s no toy!"
                                      "... Yeah?"
                                      "Th- That’s just pure EVIL! Why would they do that?"
                                      "I don't know. Sometimes they just miss a box."
                                      "I want to talk to the manager!"
                                      "Can't we just-"
                                      "MANAGER !!1!!!1"

                                      Then, a curious employee walked in on that spectacle with a highly polite and undeserved, “May I help you?”
                                      Hellfire said, "Yes, yes you may! I opened this box, but it doesn’t have a Transformer in it."
                                      "… You did?"
                                      "Yeah!"
                                      "That’s illegal, sir."
                                      "Your face is illegal! Let me talk to the manager!"
                                      “Security!"


                                      Then he toasted her alive like a ******** piece of bread, because she was a b***h.

                                      "NOBODY UNDERSTANDS!"

                                      Then he rocketed himself through the ceiling with the power of sheer fire, sobbing. He pressed the button on the remote control in his cloak pocket (because all the cool villains have those) and called over as many available robots at home. They soared through the automatic doors, causing chaos and guts everywhere, which made Hellfire feel a little better. But, because he was on a roll, he decided to continue his manic episode. Somebody eventually called the police and their crappy confrontation kind of went like this.

                                      “Hellfire, by the power invested in us by the District of Columbia, we demand you stand down or we’ll shoot!”
                                      The handful of cops there (who happened to care enough to come to a Hellfire call, because that’s just about as important as bathroom duty) pointed their guns towards the roof, but it failed to threaten Hellfire at all. He kind of just stared.

                                      “Seriously, we’ll shoot!”
                                      Blink.

                                      “Shoot! And kill you."
                                      Blink.

                                      "So.. so you won't be alive anymore!"
                                      Blink.

                                      "I mean it!”

                                      After his awkwardly long silence, the villain replied with a clear, "NO!"

                                      Then crisped the guy alive with a snap, crackle, and pop, like the ******** Rise Crispy © cereal brand, because he was being a no-good, fun-sucking a*****e. The robots menacingly hovered towards the other resistors, shooting lasers and chopping things. Amazingly, most of the civilians got away, hiding behind the police blockade along with those who were dispatched.

                                      ~* END FLASHBACK *~

                                      To sum it up, now there's a flaming large ham on a rampage with a seemingly infinite army of robots. Oh, and Vise was just standing there, resting his weight on the cart with a sigh. He thought something along the lines of "he's got to calm down sometime" and decided to chill while the other customers dropped their half price goodies and ran panicking back to their cars. Though the police came earlier, it looked like they were calling for backup because they were ducking behind their cop car blockade and shouting into their radios. When it came to ordinary man versus psychopathic manchild, they weren't going to cut it. Vise guessed the government-instated superhumans would be there any minute, but he wasn't really nervous.

                                      Sentinel needed dinner too anyways.


                                      ` codename viseKiD IC4RUS
Brethil24's avatar

Ruthless Conventioneer

Max. I have posted for him. He'll get a format later.

              Maxwell Gravenstein was not a patient man by any means, but he did understand the virtues of waiting for the perfect opportunity. It was haste that got him into this mess in the first place after all; he’d realized at the time that it’d be risky stealing another component for Jaden’s body so soon after the last one, but Jaden had seemed antsy as of late, always hinting at how she’d like to try talking to more people, maybe even take a quick walk through the neighborhood in the previous build (because he was definitely going to let his daughter cavort around in a prototype with more bugs than a poorly made arcade game). So he sniped a part from work, and apparently someone was tired of their ‘office supplies’ disappearing on a regular basis because just as he was leaving work for the day, his supervisor came to talk with him. With three government agents as backup. Probably should have made it four. Or eight since that was the number needed to take him into custody.

              Then again by the time the feds busted his door down Max was more then ready to go quietly. In fact he probably would have if he hadn’t caught one of them manhandling Jaden’s body (b*****d wouldn’t be able to touch anymore girls for a long time). Max realized he wouldn’t have the time to hide Jaden, collect about a decade’s worth of projects and make a clean getaway. So he made sure Jaden was somewhere safe and then made it very clear to his captors that if they didn’t want his tech to fry itself into complete oblivion, they probably shouldn’t keep it more than four hundred feet away from him. And being the greedy bastards that they were, the government drones agreed. Even now Max could feel the machines somewhere deep in the building’s basement, one of the drones zapping some poor techy that prodded it wrong. Guy might be able to actually get past some of the defense mechanisms if he stuck at it long enough. Of course, Max wasn’t exactly planning on hanging around for the next four years.

              Because really, they were kind of doomed to ******** up eventually. The thing about state of the art prisons was that it was the technology that made them so special, not the buildings or prison guards or whatever else they might claim. Even if they did strip everything more advanced than a wristwatch out of his cell, Max could still feel the hum of machines everywhere in the building, too far away to directly manipulate but close enough to monitor. All it’d take is one schmuck forgetting to leave his phone outside of his range and he’d have his ticket out of here. ‘Suppose that’s the nice thing about the 21st century. Technology’s become common enough that most people forget it’s even there.’

              Of course, when Max was talking about the perfect opportunity, he wasn’t expecting it to be a pair of kids knocking heads. Max lazily sat up on his uncomfortable mattress, watching some ice super cut down the guards stationed on their area before giving the all clear to another guy who emerged from the elevator. He immediately began formulating a plan to take advantage of the chaos and make his own escape, but apparently that was unnecessary; Max quirked an eyebrow as this so called Moxie walked right up to his cell and began talking. Apparently Generation whatever it was that came after his thought emasculating a man was how you convinced him to risk his life and join a secret antigovernment resistance force. That and Sandy still kept tabs on him. Why was he not surprised? “Well, just how am I supposed to refuse an offer like that? Though while we’re on the topic of things I want before I join your little party, I think you should know I have no intention of being the sidekick of a boy who’s barely old enough to be out of school. Or anyone for that matter.”

              Slipping off of the bed, Max shrugged as he watched Moxie observe the bars of his cell before taking two of them between his hands. This guy’s a chatty one isn’t he? “Probably as well as you’re eating. Unless you’ve picked up a gourmet cook while I was gone.” Delicious meals were not a reason for joining the underground, though it could be that his memories were a bit biased. Emilia had been really into making him boxed lunches for some reason.

              Max obligingly took a few steps to the side at Moxie’s warning, though he kept his eyes trained on the bars as they vibrated fast enough to heat up the surrounding air. Could it be that he had energy-based powers? Fascinating. He’d have to ask about the specifics later when they weren’t fighting their way out of a government facility. Because it definitely looked like there would be some fighting coming up, at least judging from the sound of several guards coming from the conveniently placed stairwell. Max squeezed through the newly created opening, standing a little bit behind Moxie. He wasn’t really much of a fighter, at least when it came to unarmed combat. Fortunately it looked like these guys had all of the weapons he’d need.

              The new millennium had messed with him like it had with all the superhumans, but even with his weakened powers he could still cause the headsets the guards wore to suddenly emit an obnoxiously high-pitched screech; the one closest to them even had the added bonus of it suddenly exploding in a shower of sparks and lighting his shirt on fire. Max left whoever was still standing to Moxie and the other guy, since that was about the most he’d be able to do combat-wise, and walked a few feet away from the scuffle to the security camera that was trained on his cell. It was a crappy model, probably installed in an attempt to limit the scope of his powers if he somehow managed to get out. What they didn’t realize was that while he wouldn’t be able to make anything from the pitiful camera, he could still use it as a medium to short out the entire building’s surveillance system, which he was more than happy to do. Max raised his thumb and index finger in a vague imitation of a gun and pointed it at the camera mouthing the word ‘bang’ before shutting it down. He should probably let Jaden switch back to Disney films for their next movie night; all those action flicks were giving him weird ideas.

              Turning back to his ‘rescuers’, Max cleared his throat before speaking. “Security cameras should all be down now. You guys are probably wiped from the feed unless they backed up the memory sometime in the last twenty minutes, which I doubt. You did say you’d do anything to get me on your side, right? Because this building’s got some of my tech down in the basement, and getting it back for me would be a good place to start.”
KiD IC4RUS's avatar

Devoted Friend


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                                                  millennium ██████████████████████ .. ██████████████████████
                                                  xx ═════════════════════════════════════════════════
                                                  millennium i never wanted it to go this far , x never thought it would be so hard
                                                  millenniumx but now i'm left with nothing else
                                                  millennium ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

                                                    Most kids didn't come to school on Saturday.

                                                    So that was just the perfect time for the Newspaper Club to meet, right? Marc leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, resting his eyes while the editor preached. He didn't get why he needed to be here in the first place - it wasn't like it was his fault that people didn't buy newspapers as much anymore. He helped with advertising once, but it didn't really work out. What more did the guy want from him?

                                                    Marc was the anonymous columnist of the newspaper, which generally meant people were intrigued by him, not that anybody knew it was his column. His column was generally about anything his heart desired for that week, and because of ratings, nobody told him what to do. He probably wouldn't listen to any advice anyway, considering the current situation.

                                                    "Lavinge, are you listening?"
                                                    "No."


                                                    It was an ironic response because if he answered, it meant he had to have been listening. The editor, accustomed to Marc's smart-aleck attitude, rolled his eyes and continued on with what had to be the longest, most pointless speech in club history.

                                                    "This is the longest, most pointless speech in club history," Marc thought aloud, causing his clubmates to snicker. However, the editor ignored comments from the peanut gallery and continued on.

                                                    There were numerous critiques he had to spit out. Marc didn't bother noting them all, but from the top of his head, he remembered the editor calling out the sports writers for not being at the school games the entire time, the weather girl for not getting the forecasts right, and the comic guy for being a shitty comedian. Out of all the critiques, these were few Marc agreed with.

                                                    "Putting capslock over a meme face does not make it funny!"

                                                    The editor slammed last week's paper on the table for all to stare at uninterestedly and explained that some people needed to pull their weight so that the paper would be a little more legitimate. With that, the "emergency" club meeting was dismissed. The other writers lugged themselves out of their seats with the intent of sleeping away the rest of Saturday, but apparently Marc was too unique to follow them right away and took his time. He opened his eyes to find the editor was staring at him across his desk.

                                                    "Am I really that attractive or are you just being a creep?"
                                                    "Neither. I was just wondering when you were planning on revealing your identity."


                                                    Most superpeople would be nervous at that, but because Marc was anonymous, he didn't have to worry about it. He slung his messenger back along his hip, then stood up and took a couple steps towards the door.

                                                    "When I ******** graduate," he said, throwing a hand back, not caring enough to make the eye contact.

                                                    The hallways were supposed to be dead quiet, but they weren't when Marc stepped out. There was a faint tap of footsteps from his homebound clubmates accompanied by what seemed to be an echo from the auditorium. He tried to think back to the previous week of school - did they say anything about a teacher conference or something?

                                                    Oh, right. Student orientation for the incoming transfers. Well, because he was totally uninvolved with anything having to do with new kids, he decided to just walk past.

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                                                  ━━━★ ★ ★ x ❝ you're so damn difficult. 》_______________
chaochu 's avatar

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                            ".. Why? Do I know you?"

                            Something inside of her dropped, her browns furrowing. "...Eh?"

                            Now that she thought about it, maybe expecting him to remember her was unfair. She'd looked different, back then. Short hair, like a boy, and even her overall demeanor had been different. More alert, more aware. With a mind that seemed to become more hazy as time passed on, Maia remembered Ryder more than she remembered last months events. Despite that rational, it was still a shock.

                            Does it matter? she thought to herself, picking up her pace to try and keep beside him.

                            "Yes, I do!" Maia blurted insistently, reaching out to grasp the hem of his shirt. "Ryder, can you please -" Realizing what she had done, the young girl paused, reminiscing, before gradually extricating her fingers from the fabric. "Sorry." With a stubborn, earnest look on her features, she stepped ahead of him to halt his immediate path. "Just... wait a second.

                            Maia couldn't help but feel there was something - something? - she was supposed to be doing. Struggling to organize her thoughts, she sniffed, at a loss for words. She wasn't prepared for this. Her hands clenched at her skirt.

                            "I-I'm Maia." she said plainly, raising her face to meet his eyes. "Maia Fenice. I knew you from back in the government, but it's been six years. I'm..."

                            She'd never really had a way with words.

                            "I'm glad to see you were okay." Inhaling deeply, she twisted her fingers into her material.

                            "It's okay. I'll just sit here until you're calmer, if that's okay..."

                            "I asked Lawrence to make them let you out, but he says he can't... Don't worry, I'll help.'"

                            "Um, would you like to get a drink with me... somewhere? It's fine if you don't remember," she met his eyes, her expression gentle, but also somewhat uncertain. "They weren't exactly happy times, but I was okay since you were there. I've always wanted to make it up to you, so..."
fairies bells's avatar

Bashful Lover

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                          i f  w e  c o u l d  p u t  i n t o  w o r d s :
                                          ███████ ( every second someone lives on ██████
                          ______    *we feel urselves live n       cecilia lewis | library   )

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                                      ' Honestly .. when are they gonna stop hounding our asses about this killcode ? Worst of all, they give me a ******** chaperone as if I can't handle going outside by myself. ' Thought a rather petite girl as she glanced to her companion. She was a fully grown adult, mentally at least, and yet she was accompanied by a fellow government agent, Ashes, for a simple trip to the library. Cecilia thought about bringing up the topic when she got back but knew that throwing a fit wouldn't help her situation and that it was partially her own fault for never spending much time researching when she got here. Most of her ' research ' trips to library included stopping by the local cafe for some coffee, perhaps detouring through the park, and never bothering to even glance at the reference section when she finally arrived at the library. The orange - haired girl sighed and reached up to untie her cloak, placing it neatly over her chair at the table they decided to work at.

                                      Her dull blue eyes moved to stare at Ashes as a tiny frown appeared on her face. " Alright, I suppose we ought to get started. " Cecilia began shortly, folding her arms over her chest. " As you know, the X - Virus doesn't affect living beings but instead inanimate objects. So instead of treating it as a human disease, let's treat it as an advanced sort of computer virus that doesn't simply infect machines. I'm assuming because there's a code gray each time the virus infects and possesses an object, it must be rewriting itself from the last time it was defeated or in layman's terms, evolving. " She paused briefly to make sure that the male was keeping up with her theory about the virus. Ashes didn't seem particularly absent - minded but she had to be certain. " Alternatively, it could be like the common cold. There are actually many different strands of the cold so even if your body builds up an immunity to one strand, there's at the least ninety - nine other strands to infect your body. If it is in fact like the common cold, we might as well just give up now but we're expected to hang out here for a while so we're going to assume the x - virus evolves constantly. For this reason, we'll be looking up books about evolving viruses and how they are eliminated. I believe the term for those types is metamorphic if you wish to look it up on the computer .. Understood ?" Cecilia narrowed her eyes slightly, putting enough emphasis on her one word question that it was clear she wasn't going to repeat herself.

                                      " I'll begin by checking the technology section's subdivision of medical science. I won't order you to do anything because I trust you have the ability to think properly about where you should look but I would suggest the first section about computer science. We'll regroup here when we've found enough resources. " She advised before walking off in the direction that the signs hovering over their heads indicated was about technology. It didn't take her long before she got to the books and began skimming over the titles. It also didn't take long for her to begin yawning. " Ugh, damn virus ... if only we could just find the person who unleashed this fresh hell upon us, we'd be done a lot faster than trying to figure out the mechanics behind it ourselves. " Cecilia mumbled to herself angrily, picking out a few books and tucking them between her other arm and her side. With nothing much left for her in this section, she began maneuvering her way through the shelves once again but not in the direction of her work station. ' 600's .. 700's .. 800's ! ' Her lips curled up into a smile as she began to walk faster, excited for one of the few things that made her happy. Her eyes passed along the titles that hinted to tales of dragons and wizards and princesses trapped in towers far off.

                                      Fantasy novels. They were a sort of guilty pleasure for Cecilia but they made her happy all the same. It was nice to get lost in the worlds of the fantasy books where even people with amazing powers and extraordinary abilities were able to lead a normal life with a happy ending. Because in reality, she knew very well it would never happen. No matter what path, people like the ones in the books .. people like her and the other superhumans would just end badly. It was only a matter of which path would end in the least pain. A sigh escaped her mouth as she let her eyes travel down to the floor at the thought. Shaking her head, Cecilia snapped back up and began scanning the titles of the books eagerly. " American Gods .. by Neil Gaiman ? Sounds interesting. Kushiel's Dart and Kushiel's Legacy ? " She blinked and adjusted the books from under one arm to hold with both hands after grabbing the first two books & placing them at the bottom of the stack. " These two should last me for a while. I better get back to Ashes before he gets curious. " Cecilia nodded to herself and began making her way, hearing voices along the way but never really bothering to stop and shush anyone. Not until the voices began to sound familiar. She backtracked slightly to notice a red - headed male being confronted by a smaller female. It didn't come immediately but Cecilia was certain she'd seen them somewhere before. ' No one I know is normal though .. superhuman kids from the government who got laid off ? ' Her eyebrows furrowed and she frowned, never being too comfortable on thinking about the superhumans who were sent away. ' I .. I better get going. No time to feel sorry for anyone .. ' The child shook her head before speed walking her way back to the table she and Ashes were at previously.
silvieon's avatar

Fanatical Hunter

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                      Coming into school on Saturdays was horribly weird for most normal kids. But they were also normal, and more importantly, they weren't David. The David that everyone knew because he was that one kid who would come into school on Saturdays and take advantage of the practice rooms because his mom didn't enjoy him practicing at home because the scales never stopped. On all four instruments. The same scales.

                      David honestly had no idea why they got so upset. Scales were good for the ~soul~.

                      Although it did mean getting up at seven in the morning, packing all his instruments securely into the trunk of the car, going to school, try to lug all his instruments up the stairs (three trips, usually, he could carry his guitar on his back and his clarinet in his hands) playing for two hours straight, and then trying to lug all of his instruments back down the stairs (three more trips). Except there was something important that he was supposed to be doing today. Something Lee had told him. Something...something...

                      'Think...think...think...!'

                      Nah, he couldn't remember it, and he'd thought until he was red in the face. Darn it. Maybe he should've written it down on his hand or somet -

                      Oh, look! Words on the backside of his hand with green highlighter lines drawn all around the words!

                      "Let's see...I think that's an n. And then an r? Or, no, wait, that's an m? N...r...a... wait, no, I think that's an m?" he puzzled out, squinting at his hand, guitar slung over his back and clarinet in his other hand. "M...a...r...marc? Marc! Uhh, let's see, what else? Re...re...recnii fhsalkgh - no. Re...oh, I give up, this is impossible!" He threw his hands up in frustration, shuffling to the exit door. Whatever. Lee would just have to suck it up and deal. If he really wanted the mission done, he would've sent David a text message or something. David could read text messages easier than his own handwriting (basically everything was easier to read than David's handwriting).

                      "Hmmm...I should go get some new reeds. And maybe some replacement strings while I'm at it? And maybe some more valve oil?" he rambled on, pulling his handy - dandy highlighter (they're good for the ~soul~) out of his pocket and wrote a new to - do list on his arm (not his hand, his hand already had words he couldn't read on it) as he ambled towards the side entrance near the auditorium.

                      "And Mom wanted some chocolate chips and I think we could use a new bottle of detergent and...and..." David's brow furrowed as he tried to think of what else they could need around the house. Maybe he'd gotten everything down already? He glanced up off his hand, since, somehow, he hadn't run into a door yet. Weird. He usually ran into doors by this ti -

                      Oh. Because he was walking into someone else.

                      "Hey!" he said conversationally, grinning happily. "Where're you headed? Where'd you come from, anyways? Aren't you...have I seen you before, maybe?" David waved with the hand that his clarinet was in (good idea of the day right there), even when he was only not even a foot away, maybe. (Even if he was more than a foot away, that case could probably give someone a real nice shiner anyways.) "`m David, have we met before? You look kind of interesting? Know anyone named Marc? With...with, like, a c? Like m - a - r - c? Because I think I'm supposed to be looking for a guy named Marc! Or maybe it's Nrarc. But. I'm not really sure what an Nrarc would be, haha~ Oh...oh! And sorry for running into you, too, by the way."
monsieur sushi's avatar

Tipsy Grabber


CILLIAN REID; CODENAME: CRYO
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                              "Excessive force huh? I like your style."

                              He inspected his bloodstained cuffs, smirking lightly in response to Paxton’s compliment. Cillian had always been one for such theatrics. What with a magician for a dad and all. It was pretty hard not to show off when given the chance.

                              Cillian took his time in surveying the cells as his partner sauntered off. ’For detention facility that houses superhumans, this is absolutely pathetic.’

                              Perhaps it was merely the surprisingly simple appearance of each cell that put him off, but the facility definitely didn’t look like much of anything. Cillian shrugged, deciding that he didn’t come here to stare at jail cells and walls. He followed Paxton to Max’s cell, wondering if the guy looked anything like the man he pictured within his head. But as far as first impressions go, he wasn’t too impressed by the man the Underground went to such lengths for.

                              Max was… well. He was an old geezer. Or at least, this was Cillian’s first criticism. Not that this was the main problem for the Irishman. He just didn’t look like the genius type. Then again, Cillian conceded, a lot of the smart ones never really look ‘smart’. With both hands stuffed in his pockets, the cryokinetic allowed Paxton to take the reins when it came to talking. As a generally placid guy, Cillian wasn’t known for being chatty. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised to know that not a lot of people ever really hear him speak. Paxton should count himself lucky to be one of the few to hear his voice.

                              “Though while we’re on the topic of things I want before I join your little party, I think you should know I have no intention of being the sidekick of a boy who’s barely old enough to be out of school.”

                              He masked an amused chuckle with a cough and quickly gave the old man a nod of approval. This Max Gravenstein may not look like a genius, but he sure had a sense of humour. Now that was something Cillian sincerely liked. He was about to suggest getting the hell out of there until the sound of rushed footsteps appeared nearby.

                              Paxton’s warning sent Cillian whirling around to face their adversaries. Luckily, Max did them all favor with his small headset trick. Still, there were some pitiful guards left for him and his partner. ’Idiots. They’ll never learn not to face us.’ He shook his head as he loosened his tie in preparation. Ice The cryokinetic leveled the guards with a calm, disinterest stare. If they thought they could take out three superhumans, they were dead wrong.

                              ”Here to crash the party?” He sighed--feigning heavy disappointment. ”What a shame.”

                              The first guard to charge at him received an icicle straight through the eye and out his skull. The second was smart enough to place his rifle just a little bit over his face as if it were a shield. ”Tch.” As if that was enough to stop someone like him. Unfortunately for the armed man, a wrong sidestep sent him sprawling on the floor, several shards of ice embedded within his chest. Cillian gave the soon-to-be corpse a fond look before moving onto his third victim.

                              He felt a bullet whizz far too close for comfort away from his ear. The guard tried to aim another shot at him, but was a bit too late to stop Cillian from throwing an icicle that pierced him through his neck. A look of utter disbelief crossed the man’s face as he coughed blood out. Cillian stepped back in disgust. Bloody cuffs were one too many parts of his clothes drenched in blood, thank you very much. He didn’t need another drop on his well-tailored suit (despite him generally loathing suits).

                              “Security cameras should all be down now. You guys are probably wiped from the feed unless they backed up the memory sometime in the last twenty minutes, which I doubt.”

                              Cillian snorted. Of course. Just another loophole in the facility’s security.

                              You did say you’d do anything to get me on your side, right? Because this building’s got some of my tech down in the basement, and getting it back for me would be a good place to start.”

                              He turned to Paxton, jerking his head to the side. ”Let’s go. Sandy’s probably waiting with the tech already.”

                              x
KiD IC4RUS's avatar

Devoted Friend

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                      ___________ I'LL PUSH YOU CLOSER TO THE GROUND ! san ★BECAUSE YOU'RE THE ONE THAT'S GOING ↓DOWN
                      mille ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
                      sandy I AM ⋆STRONGER NOWx I AM ⋆STRONGER NOW

                      Then, the fourth wall decided that Sandy needed to be waiting by the tech already.

                      The journey under the jail to the facility's "confiscation" room involved kicking the KO'd janitor in the face, placing all the dirt back under the hole in the basement, night vision, mumblings about how she totally had a superhuman sense of direction, and a whole lot of digging.

                      "Finally."

                      Sandy popped up from the floor, scraping through the tile underneath where Max's tech should have been. She sighed at the sight of her torn gloves, thinking about how she'd just get new ones from Vendo later. Bracing herself from numerous items that fell into the burrow she'd just created, the woman pushed through the opening and stood up in the dimly lit room. The place was pretty big, for a place the government used to store a bunch of stolen crap. There might even be a back closet or something... Y'know. For things stupid newbie guards shouldn't be touching. Hint hint.

                      She couldn't hear the commotion upstairs, but she supposed her two comrades and Cillian would be arriving soon.
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                                        fadu███████████████████████████████████████████████████████
                                        xxxxxxxxx ★`S- SHUT UP² &LET ME GO ! ❜
                                        xxxxxxxxxxTHISHURTSITELLYOUSOFORTHELASTTIMEYOUWILLKISSMYLIPSSOSHUTUPANDLETMEGO !xxxxxxx ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉
                                        fadufi◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆xxx IT’S YOU THAT OUGHT TO BE ♔&— HOLDING ME ⇢ THIS»TURNS UP! ◞
                                        _☆ ★ ┊xI’MNOTCONTAINABLE x IT’SNOTSUSTAINABLE ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫
                                        _______________________NOW OH SO EASILY OVER MExxxGONE IS LOVExxxI AIN’T FREAKIN’ – I AIN’T FAKING THISxxxIT’S ME THAT OUGHT TO BE MOVING ON !

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                                                            “Look, Bob –”

                                                            “My name is Frank…”

                                                            “Okay Steve. I’d love to help but I’m hanging upside down.”

                                                            “My name is Frank. And… you’re what?”

                                                            “I told you Jim, I’m hanging upside down!”

                                                            “My name is… Nevermind, just get to Walmart and pretend like you’re trying to arrest Hellfire okay?”

                                                            “But Andrew--!”

                                                            Click. Beeeeeeeeeppp.

                                                            Chachi snapped her phone shut with a sigh. Jeremy could be such a nag sometimes. She swung back and forth, arms flailing below her as she tried not to drop her phone into the mouths of hungry alligators snapping their jaws beneath her. Chachi glanced up at her legs, which were currently tangled in a mess of a rope as she dangled upside-down from the ceiling of her room. A ring of fire surrounded her, burning her magazines and pillows to a crisp. Her stuffed animals that lined the walls of her room stared at her mockingly as PONPONPON blasted through the room at ear-shattering volume. If Chachi was going to make it to Walmart before Hellfire blew the place off the map, she was going to have to weasel her way out of this booby-trap soon.

                                                            Which was rather odd because she didn’t remember setting this one in the first place.

                                                            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                                                            One sheet of aluminum foil, two toasted alligators, one Starbucks® Javachip Frappucino, and a-pillow-pet-sacrificed-as-an-offering later, Chachi was on her way to Walmart. Unfortunately since the government of the District of Columbia refused to let her hold anything remotely close to a driver’s license (something about how having her on the road for just a month caused a 500% increase in vehicle related accidents), Chachi was resigned to walking. And/or riding her magical winged unicorn aptly named Mr. Sparklypants.

                                                            She rode through Walmart’s double-doors with fabulous sparkles of justice trailing behind her, pumping her fist in the air and shouting heroically, “For love and justice, the pretty sailor-suited soldier Sailor Chachi! In the name of the sparkles, I punish you!” Chachi jabbed a finger accusingly at Hellfire, who was … somewhere. Cue Chachi’s giant tiger rampaging around the store trying to maul the robots – and possibly mauling a few employees in the process.

                                                            Chachi clapped her hands together appreciatively. “Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get some shopping done, teehee! ~”

                                                            Somewhere around the store, she tackled and clasped his handbumped into Vise. Chachi’s eyes practically sparkled, “HIHIHI YOU’RE A CUTIE ~ I’m Chachi! What’s your name? Do you work here? Can you help me find the Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Oh that’s a cute dress, do you think it would look good on me? I like orange, do you like orange?” She proceeded to drag Mr. Unnamed Cutie #5712 around Walmart, eating boxes of Golfish from the shelves, trying on cute clothes and stuffing them into her bag, “borrowing” a camera worth $250 so she could take pictures of herself and Vise, all without paying for any of it. Whoops.

                                                            The startled police men (or rather, the few who avoided being mauled by the tiger) had trouble figuring out which one was the criminal.
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                                Snow's plan wasn't particularly seamless. Actually, it was quite the opposite, seeing as Snow really had no plan. With her feet still solidly attempting to keep the struggling fans against the ground, Snow was about to throw this planning business to the wind and attack the main fan directly when, of all things, she began to hear voices. Rather, it was one voice, and when Snow saw just who it came from, she felt her facial expression slacken in disbelief. Why was there a kid here?

                                "Oi!" she shouted out, as a blade swirled towards him, narrowly missing his head. He dodged in time, and she released a sigh of relief, before irritably looking at her watch. "Tche! Only seven minutes... hm?" she grunted out through her parted lips glancing in the kid's direction. His green eyes were wide and earnest. "Well, yeah, I'm a su - wait! What are you doing here, kid? It's dangerous, scram! Hurry up! Go, move - "

                                In the midst of her trying to encourage the boy out like some kind of animal, her hands raised, fluttering to create shooing motions, Snow felt something collide with her body. Legs firmly planted, she hardly budged, but the fact that there was another person made her wanted to toss back her head and groan as if the new worst moment of her life had been crowned. In truth, this situation wouldn't even make it into the top ten, but having two more people to deal with didn't make life any easier.

                                I really hope these punks are superhumans, or else I have my hands full, she thought to herself.

                                "It's irony if I'm thinking about how crazy you must be standing around in here right now, right. That's what it's called, isn't it?"

                                Snow's jaw unhinged. This one looked a little older, around her own age, and he was peering down his nose at her, scrutinizing her. The young woman felt her brow quirk. "Whatever!" she replied in exasperation. "You're here too, aren't you? Is now the time to be rambling?" Not that they should have been there. The possibility of them being government agents flickered into her mind, only to quickly flicker out. It was a possibility, but there was really no point in thinking about it at the time being. She could only assume they were superhumans, because surely no normal person would be willing to head back into something like this.

                                The boy said something to her, but Snow had stopped looking at him. "Huh?" she said, shifting her weight on the squirming fan pieces. "Oh. Sure, Anthony. I'm Rave Breaker," she used her gang, or rather, hero name without missing a beat. "What are you two doing here?"

                                Anthony - Antony - Adam, whatever his name might have been, gave her a brief bit of how they were from the government, even going so far as to flash his badge.

                                "Ehhhh," she drawled out impulsively, but her eyes were bored and uncaring, showing that she wasn't exactly impressed. "Well, good for you!" Snow gave him a cheesy thumbs up.

                                Nonchalantly, she crouched as another blade flew by. Raking her fingers idly over her cheek, both of her hands moved to grasp either side of her head, ruffling at her hair until the short strands stood up on rather odd angles. She was wasting time like like this.

                                "Okay!" she said abruptly, grasping the blades firmly, holding one in each hand as she erected herself. "I'll handle the fan. You government boys deal with the blades. Be careful - you break one of those suckers, and they just reform. But we may as well help each other out, right?"

                                Grinning easily at both of them for a brief moment, Snow instantaneously rocketed from her position without waiting for a proper response. A fan clipped the skin on her cheek and ear as it whizzed by, blood trickling into her lip and mouth. Snow ignored it, her body twisting as she leaped. Using the wall as a sideways platform, Snow grunted, jumping and propelling herself towards the ceiling. The fans became weapons in her hands, and she swung chaotically at other psuedo-boomerangs which came into her range. With impeccable timing, Snow finally released the blades, tossing them to the ground like pieces of trash.

                                "YOU'RE - " she clutched at the spinning fan with her arms as it swung at her body, "GOING -" and with a force of strength, Snow was tearing it from the ceiling, wires cracking, "DOWN!"

                                And just like that, she fell, narrowly missing a swarm of blades that were attempting to return to their home base. And like a real swarm, they hovered, before following her.

                                Snow landed, and the impact of the force cracked the titles beneath her, leaving imprints in the ground. "Yes, I got it!" Her senses exploded in front of her eyes like stars, and when she looked up, she noticed what she'd done. It hadn't stopped the fan at all, like she'd hoped. Instead, she was now holding the magnet of the destruction.

                                "Well, s**t." May not have been one of her brighter ideas.

                                Snow jumped, tumbled, rolled, and glanced to see all of the blades clattering against the ground. They were searching and seeking for what she held in her arms.

                                If it's like this, she thought, glancing at the large machine she clutched to her chest, I can control where they go!

                                Scrambling to her feet, the girl grabbed at a shelf with her free hand. It seemed to be made out of a malleable metal, but hopefully strong enough to assist her. Lifting a portion of the shelves from the ground, approximately a little shorter than two cars, she grunted and pivoted, successfully keeping herself from another mindless onslaught. "Yeah, man!" she whooped, before noticing something long and white sticking out of her leg. It was only a flesh wound, and it wasn't deep, the tip of the blade just having caught in her skin and stuck. She pulled it out, the white discolored with her blood, before tossing it over her makeshift shield. "Ouch." Hopefully it would heal soon, or she would be feeling it when her time was up.

                                Turning her attention back to the fan, she pursed her lips. "Now, what to do with you, ya little bugger?"

                                She broke it in half, an experiment, and watched as it clumped itself back together in her grasp.

                                Snow scowled, glancing at her watch. "I should've seen that coming, huh?"

                                She'd wasted over a minute with that little stunt. A little over five minutes left. Could she end this by then?
M O D mikki 's avatar

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                                    ; I WAS BORN OF THE WOMB OF A POISONOUS MAN
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                                    BEATENANDBROKENANDCHASEDFROMTHELAND
                                    x x x x x
                                    ────but i RISE up above it,────
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                                    H IGHUP ──── a b o v e x i t x & x s e e . . .

                                    ██ PAXTON ( MOXIE ) METCALF ██
                                    THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙


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                                    xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx UN♦DERGROUND ! ► ► AG♦ENT ! ► ► MO♦XIE ! ► ►

                            ╔══════════════════════ ►►

                            “Though while we’re on the topic of things I want before I join your little party, I think you should know I have no intention of being the sidekick of a boy who’s barely old enough to be out of school.”

                            That’s what he thought. Paxton made to comment, but it seemed like the guards didn’t really care to hear the three supers banter about silly things. His energetic blue eyes scanned the incoming forces apathetically. This company was a gangly group, and Paxton nearly scoffed at the sight of such a puny squad trying to take out a team of supers. As the front lines wailed due to the piercing of their headsets, Paxton just sat back and watched for a bit. He only sat idly by for a moment though, because he was honestly itching for this to happen. It had been far too long since he’d last had a good fight—and though this wasn’t really what he’d call good (more like easy), it was better than nothing.

                            As Cillian burst into action, Paxton followed suit—charging forward but hopping behind Cillian as he saw a guard steady his aim from afar. He poised himself precisely, the motion careless and second-nature. Now he just had to wait… and…

                            BANG.

                            He bullet stopped in mid-air, halting just before Moxie’s fingertips, now drained of any inertia that had propelled it forward. With a grin, Paxton eyed down his bewildered assailant, and twiddled the bullet between his fingertips. He made like a pitcher, his sleek suit pants stretching to fit tight against his body as he went through the motions. As he thrust his arm forward, pitching the bullet in a beeline back towards another guard beside its owner, he applied just the right amount of energy behind it—350 m/s. Standard speed for a standard bullet, but just as deadly. The bullet hit the mark straight in the forehead, and the guard toppled backwards—dead, and in perfect sync with the guard Cillian had pierced through the neck.

                            "BANG." He exclaimed, rushing forward to meet another guard.

                            This one brandished a police baton on him, and he blocked the imminent blow with his forearm, wincing as the crack of the rod against his hurt sent a current of adrenaline rushing down his spine. As he gritted his teeth together, he felt the inertia behind the blow seep into his body through his skin. Pushing his free palm to the guard’s chest, he released an invisible but ear-splitting blast into his opponent. A ripple of motion went through his skin, and the sound of ribs cracking met the dark-haired man’s ears. With a twisted smirk, he laughed to see the guard go flying backwards, only to crash into another which promptly sent them both toppling down the stairs.

                            “Security cameras should all be down now. You guys are probably wiped from the feed unless they backed up the memory sometime in the last twenty minutes, which I doubt.”

                            "Thanks Princess! Good to see you’re being useful already." He teased, delivering a swift punch to yet another guard.

                            With a smashed face, the guard toppled forward, narrowly missing crushing Paxton beneath his weight. Quirking an eyebrow, Paxton wiped the single drip of blood from his well-polished shoe on the guard’s uniform. How had he managed to remain so spotless? Eh, it wasn’t really relevant. Snapping the lapels of his jacket forward, he coolly turned to face his partner and objective.

                            You did say you’d do anything to get me on your side, right? Because this building’s got some of my tech down in the basement, and getting it back for me would be a good place to start.”

                            ”Let’s go. Sandy’s probably waiting with the tech already.”

                            "Yeah, let’s." He replied, taking the lead and making his way down the stairs—dress shoes clacking and reverberating against the walls of the chambered stairs.

                            On the main floor now, Paxton busted the doors open, standing in front of the two others as a sight that would intimidate lesser supers met their gaze. With a cocky grin, he eyed the dozens of guards all standing in wait for them. He lifted his hands in the air, palms facing out.

                            "Shoot me." He casually ordered, and the guards didn’t hesitate to comply.

                            Their bullets stopped inches before him, as he extended his powers far beyond reach of him and his comrades. Letting out a vivacious howl of a laugh as he felt his body ripple with energy, he only watched in amusement as the guards unloaded their entire ammo out on him. For a moment he felt ready to take on anything, and then in the next instant—he felt suddenly abysmally low. Dammit, he’d over extended his absorption powers—maybe they figured he would? Cocky bastards. Still, it was an easy fix. Too much energy?

                            Get rid of some.

                            As the guards poured into them, trying to overwhelm the supers with their numbers, Paxton released blast after blast of energy. It was all unfocused and careless, but it was devastatingly powerful. At such high levels of energy, it was impossible to try and control the blasts—it was all he could do to keep from knocking himself and his comrades out of commission with his highly volatile powers.

                            Still, this was some good bonding time, and he couldn’t help but c**k his head over to see what short work Cillian was making of the other guards.


                            ╚══════════════════════ ►►



                                    i x w a s x h u n g x f r o m x t h e x t r e e s x m a d e x o f x t o n g u e s x o f x t h e x w e a kxxx
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                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES
                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES
                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES

                                    ────& RISE up above it,────
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                                    H IGHUP ──── a b o v e x i t x & x s e e . . .
                                    x x x x x

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